Jessica's Attic
by spheeris1
Summary: AU :: Mentions of Ashden. Mentions of Spencer/OFC. Spashley :: A dash of angst. A pinch of fluff. Maybe sex. :: Shifting POVs :: Four part thing :: You may start as strangers but you'll end up lovers... :: I get ideas. So there you go. :: COMPLETE
1. may

**(one)**

Jessica Barnes isn't known for being overly thoughtful or particularly aware of social issues.  
She's one of those girls who owns a lot of things - a car that no seventeen year old girl should have, fast and flashy and extremely expensive; two walk in closets full of labels that you normally seen on movie stars; every accessory that a child of this age needs to survive is at her fingertips before she even has to ask for it.

Jessica Barnes isn't known for being smart or for being sharp or for being witty.  
She's one of those girls that will have the road paved for her - no need to lay down the pavement with teacher-led knowledge or with hard-won grades; no need to aim for some Ivy League dream, it'll be handed to her on a silver platter; she has no need for hipster cred or fancy banter in her world of reality television.

Jessica Barnes isn't known for much, just another girl with bottle blonde hair and pouty lips.  
Just another girl with an endless bank account at her beck-and-call.  
Just another girl with a lot of time on her hands and a certain kind of reputation to uphold.

Jessica Barnes is, however, known for one thing.  
Or, rather, four things.

May. July. October. December.

Four parties in one year. Just four, no more and no less. No cheesy theme to adhere to. No rules to abide by. If you bring alcohol, you are in. If you bring drugs, you are in. If you dress up or dress down, you are in.

If you show up, you are in.

Because Jessica Barnes doesn't know the capital of California and she doesn't know what the Senate actually does, but she knows that to have a successful party means you do not turn away any face at the door.

\

They go through this every so often, where he has too much to drink and she's not had enough to drink and instead of it blurring into a drunken touch that then turns into a drunken fuck, it turns into a fight.

His left hand grabs her ass and his right hand cannot keep up with the plastic cup of beer, so there is this shower of liquid onto her chest, rolling down between her breasts.  
If she were as happy as he is, it might just make her laugh.  
If she were in the mood for this, it might just make her strip down and give a cheap show and then she'd drag him to the car and they would make out.

But tonight, it just pisses her off.

"God, Aiden, you **stupid fucking**-"  
"Oh, what? What **now**, Ash?"  
"Get your damn hands off me."  
"You weren't saying that last night, babe..."  
"Yea, well, last night you actually looked like my boyfriend and not a douche-bag."  
"What the hell? You on the **rag** or something?"

He chuckles and she shoves him, hard, until he bounces into other people trying to dance.  
'Trying' being the word to focus on there as most of the people here are too trashed to bust out any moves, they just fall into one another and grope and grind some.

That's what Aiden wants to do. That's not what Ashley wants to do.

They go through this every once in a while, where Aiden looks at this hot girl and wonders why she has to be a bitch, where Ashley looks at this handsome guy and wonders why he has to be so fucking dumb.  
But they always work it out. Might take hours. Might take days.  
But they always work it out and kiss and say it is true love... or something close to that.

Sometimes, Ashley just thinks she doesn't want to be alone and that is all that is keeping them together.

A flimsy line of insecurity that they both name 'relationship'.

She walks away, letting him do whatever the hell he wants tonight, and stalks through the crowd and finally finds the front door.  
Sticky with beer and sweat, shoes lost somewhere along the way and on the front stoop of Jessica Barnes house on the sixteenth of May, Ashley Davies sits down with a sigh.

\

They don't fight. They don't get into arguments about silly shit. They have the same friends and they like a lot of the same things - films about serious topics and songs by obscure bands, they both think dogs are better than cats... You know, stuff like that.

Everyone looks at them like the little couple that could.

And, maybe, in some other world that would fill Spencer up with more joy than she could ever hope to handle. In some other world, that kiss to her lips would signal a deep fire and Spencer would burn alive.  
In some other world, Spencer could equate comfort with perfection.

But she doesn't.

And it makes her feel like an asshole, makes her snappy and moody and rude, makes her leave her girlfriend in that swarm of hormones that is Jessica Barnes party.  
What's worse is that she has done this all before. Too many times before, running from safety, because she can, because she** must**.  
She takes the knife and twists it just a fraction more into her girlfriend's heart.

"Spence... Spencer!"

She can hear that familiar note of desperation in Kate's voice. And if she were to turn around, take back the attitude and grin her way through the night, they'd be okay.  
Kate would forgive. They would dance and drink and they'd stumble back to Kate's room and they'd make love like they always have.

And Kate would sleep.  
And Spencer would be awake with her lies.

She should keep running, but she only gets as far as the front door. Chancing a look back, seeing Kate stare at her past a sea of people, and Spencer knows it would be kinder to cut this tether between them.

It would be an act of kindness to be honest.

But Spencer just slips outside, pulling the door shut with an all too steady hand, and leans against it and takes a deep breath and feels better than she should.

\

It's not like trees and grass here ever go brown. Life is always green. Life is always starting, never ending. Even with the sky dark and the stars out there beyond the thousands of artificial lights, those shades of green are in the background.

Soft on the soles of your feet. Whisper in the bolts of breeze.

They notice one another at the same time, one of them walking further out and the other one deciding to go back in.

Caught in streetlamp glow and distant moonlight, Spencer sees a dark haired girl.  
Backlit by the windows and next to pale granite walls, Ashley sees another blonde girl.

"You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette would you?" The blonde asks.  
"Uh, nope, sorry." The dark haired girl replies.

The blonde sighs and runs a hand through her hair, eyes cast down to the floor beneath her feet.

"Guess I should have grabbed a drink on the way out then. Need to take the edge off, you know?" Spencer doesn't know why she is talking at all, rambling to some stranger at this party.

And Ashley doesn't know why she hasn't walked away yet, but she hasn't. Her feet feel cold on this porch and it would be nice to get cleaned up inside... and yet, she stands here and looks at this blonde girl and listens.

"Yea, I get that. I could use about, oh I don't know, ten more or something. Try to forget this night totally."

They lock gazes and they share matching smiles that are really smirks.

"That bad, hmm?" The blonde asks.  
"My boyfriend is being a dick." The dark haired girl states.

Spencer nods her head, though she knows nothing of boyfriends. She has slept with exactly one guy and that was to make sure about being gay - and sleeping with that boy only confirmed what Spencer already knew.

Ashley knows that Aiden isn't really a bad guy. He is probably one of the better guys. He can do emotional when need be, can remember birthdays, is willing to rub Ashley's feet every once in a while. But... There is a 'but' in there that won't just go away.

"I mean, he spilled his damn drink** all over me **and didn't give a shit. He was still trying to get in my pants!" The dark haired girl exclaims.  
The blonde sort of laughs and rolls her eyes.  
"Yea, that's one of **many** reasons why I don't date guys... Not that girls are much better sometimes."

It could have been really awkward. It could have started a brawl. It could have turned into a million different things - none of them good.

But Ashley just shakes her head ruefully and Spencer shrugs her shoulders, as if they just figured out the mysteries of life in their brief conversation.

"Relationships suck, don't they?" Ashley muses aloud.  
"Yea... Yea, sometimes they **really** do." Spencer agrees.

And Ashley doesn't go back in.  
And Spencer doesn't leave.

\

Somehow, after one of them crept back into Jessica Barnes house and snagged about five bottles of beer and they drank until there was nothing left, they ended up about two hundred feet or so from that expensive castle of a home and that obnoxiously loud party and that wasted boyfriend and that mistreated girlfriend.

Somehow, the two of them were side by side in a hammock, lazily swinging back and forth.  
And talking.  
And then not talking.  
Toes grazing the lawn and sometimes bumping into empty glass strewn about, thighs pressed close and arms brushing when one of them would gesticulate.

It's the alcohol, sure. It's late, that factors in as well.  
But Ashley feels comfortable and content, swinging here at some hour long past midnight and with Spencer beside her, swirling a sip of amber ale around before swallowing it.

They exchanged names during the first beer. They told tales during the second one. They laughed and joked during the third one. They found the hammock with the fourth one.

And there, net at their backs, they share the fifth beer.

Spencer is feeling calm and pleased, the slight caress of air over her skin and the slight warmth of Ashley's body so near, tasting another girl's mouth on the glass as the last drop goes down.  
It tastes better that way, that's what Spencer decides.  
All drinks should be shared, that's what Spencer determines.  
Shared with a girl like Ashley.

And somehow, in between all the talking and not talking and the drinking and not drinking and the swinging and the stopping, Ashley finds her eyes on Spencer and Spencer is looking right back.

"What?"  
"Fuck, it's going to sound **stupid**..."  
"Oh c'mon."  
"No, really, it will."  
"All the best things in life sound stupid."

Ashley silently laughs and it shakes Spencer's body and that makes Spencer laugh, too.

"That makes **no** sense."  
"Yea, whatever. You are being, um, you know... evasive... or something..."  
"Okay, fine, but if you make fun of me-"  
"I won't. Promise. We are hammock buddies. I take this seriously."

Ashley reaches out before any internal barriers can fly up and prevent her from moving, her index finger coming into contact with the tip of Spencer's nose.

"You are **drunk**."

Spencer swats the hand away and then mimics Ashley's action.

"So are **you**."

They laugh some more and Spencer is pretty buzzed - not enough to be ridiculous, but just enough to buffer herself from recrimination - and so she leans forward and kisses Ashley's cheek, a loud smack of lips to flesh and with her hand cupping Ashley's face.

Spencer pulls the kiss away, but not the delicate hold to Ashley's jaw.  
And Ashley doesn't swat at Spencer's hand. Quite the contrary, actually. Ashley finds her neck bending ever so slightly and her head tilts a little bit and it is really nice.  
In fact, it might be the nicest thing Ashley has ever felt.

"I'm glad I met you."

That's what Ashley wanted to say, she's not even sure why, and she still thinks it sounds stupid. Incredibly stupid.  
But Spencer likes the words, likes the person saying them and she cannot be bothered to find that sensation of happiness wrong.

"I'm glad I met you, too."

\ \ \

**tbc**


	2. july

**(two)**

A hand threading through her hair, sure and confident, it is a touch that has been here before. A touch that knows the scalp, fingernails that know when to dig in, fists that know when to lightly tug.

And then the kiss.

Warm and gentle, it probes softly and with intention, it asks for nothing more than affection and love. This kiss wants the world, but it'll settle for less than that.  
This kiss against her lips does not make the world spin. This kiss doesn't make her heart pound like a drum. This kiss does not make her blood boil.

Spencer is no good at ruining someone, though.  
And so they keep kissing, in between stop lights and leaning against the car, kissing languidly as the drive fills up and the streets are taken over by over-eager teenagers, as this secluded section of prime real estate is transformed into something bigger and louder than a premiere gala.

Then again, it is the end of school. And grades are decent. Parents pleased. Dreams on the cusp of being realized.  
And they will drink until the bar is dry. And there will be lines in the bathroom and there will be blue smoke by the pool.  
There will be sex, so much sex - the attempts, the fumbles, those coming on strong and those not coming on strong enough - this is the July the third and summer is here and everyone is feeling decadent and free.

Everyone except Spencer, an arm about her waist and smiling as Kate nuzzles into her neck and they walk into Jessica's massive house.

Spencer isn't sure that she's ever felt truly happy in her entire life.  
Its just been varying levels of okay-ness.  
And she should change this fact, make it better, be **real** for a change.

"Want your usual, Spence?"

And Kate's grin is smooth and simple and nice and sweet.  
And Spencer is already suppressing the urge to recoil from it.

"Yea, sure."

Once again, she is reminded - watching Kate weave past bobbing heads and flirty glances - of how completely awful she truly is.

\

Leaning against his chest, his voice moving in and out of conversation, it is a decent night so far. He's only had a couple of drinks and she's had more than a few and they teased each other a lot on the way over - grazes of palms to sensitive areas, laughter, an actual soft kiss or two.

She wonders why it cannot always be like this, why it cannot always be relaxed between the two of them. Maybe she cannot let things be. Maybe he cannot always go against his nature.

They've been doing this for years, though.  
First day of sixth grade and he asked her out and all her friends were so jealous. Hell, that was the original reason she dated him - to be better than the other girls her age.  
After that, it just mutated into this unexplainable... **thing**.

Boyfriend and girlfriend. Aiden and Ashley. Fighting and fucking and breaking up and making up. It's what they do and everyone expects it now.  
Even he does.  
Even she does.

She tugs on the bottom of his t-shirt and he looks down at her upturned face.

"Let's go outside. It's too loud in here."

His lips brush against her ear and she lazily smiles. She's not turned on, though.  
She just wants to go outside and cool off. She wants to kick off her shoes - she hates wearing shoes anyway.

"Bet its really **private** out there, too."

She rolls her eyes and fishes around the counter he is propped against, finding a small bowl that someone offered her earlier. The guy that Aiden has been talking to lights it up and she takes a hit.  
She is already pretty mellow and this will just make it better.

"Don't want to do that. Just want to walk around."

Aiden rolls his eyes this time and she is too chilled out to get angry, but there is this flicker of annoyance that rumbles to life in her bones and she steps away from him.

"Ash..."  
"Stay here and, you know, talk about whatever. I'm going outside."

She takes the bowl and the lighter, not planning on returning either, bumping into people with a grin as she opens the doors to the back patio and drifts out.

\

Jessica Barnes has never really been in the actual yard that rests all around her home.  
She's been by the pool. She's taken a couple of guys to the pool house and slept with them.  
She's looked out of her bedroom window, once in a while, and glanced at the manicured acres of land - shrubs and trees and hedges.

But she is not the type of girl to go exploring, even as a child.  
She kept to dolls in their tiny houses. Pink cars and cosmetics, magazines about being older, pop music and braids and practicing future sneers.  
There was never time, nor interest, in taking off across the lawn and running around the landscape, climbing onto limbs and hiding beneath brambles.

Jessica Barnes doesn't even like the idea of having sex outside.  
And she'll never understand why some of the people who come here for her parties end up out there, stains you cannot get out of clothing and bugs in your hair and dirt on your naked body.

It kind of grosses Jessica Barnes out.

But she won't make them come inside.  
They can all do as they like, with the heat still present at night and no neighbors to complain about the noise and her indulgent parents staying away all weekend - they can all do as they please.

Even if all you walk away with is a nasty hangover, you won't walk away from a Jessica Barnes party unsatisfied.

\

They didn't exchange numbers. They do not attend the same high school.

And when you are buzzed and intrigued and not at all single, the best course of action is to hold that moment and then let it go again.

That's what Ashley did, after her strange admission a couple of months ago.  
Aiden hollered out her name and she fell out of the hammock and heard a faint giggle.  
She just sprinted away after that, sitting silent in Aiden's car and taking the keys from his useless hands.

But that's what Spencer did, too, after placing her lips to a lovely cheek a couple of months ago. She struggled to her feet and walked slowly to that large house and found Kate chatting with some girls.  
Those wounded eyes took Spencer right back in and Spencer didn't deny the entrance.  
She put one arm about Kate's shoulders and eased onto her girlfriend's lap and those girls looked annoyed, which Spencer found amusing.

They didn't forget, though.  
They just didn't try hard to remember.

Still, Spencer moves around the rooms as Kate ends up talking to some vaguely pretentious art students who are 'slumming' it at an event such as this, the tenuous grasp of Kate's fingers through the loops of her pants sliding away with equal parts simplicity and need.

For Spencer it is easy.  
For Kate it is fraught with anxiousness.

Still, Ashley walks further and further away, into the shadows. And she sits down and her back finds support against a tree. And she lights up again, inhaling deeply, and doesn't let any of it out. It warms her lungs. It creates this embrace around her head and she slips right into it with a smile on her face.

At some point, that's how Spencer finds Ashley.  
That's how they find each other, this time around, as if they are being forced into each other's universe. But it is not force. It is willing.  
They want to be found by one another, they just don't know that yet.

Ashley is in shorts and Spencer looks at her legs.  
She likes them. A lot.  
And they grin and they stare. And Ashley motions for Spencer to join her.

And so Spencer does.

\

"It's too hot."  
"Mmmhmm."  
"And, you know, they say that beer doesn't cool you off. You just** think **it does."  
"Who says that?"  
"**They** do."  
"The government?"  
"...Maybe..."

It's not really quiet. The bass from the music is insane, practically causing mini-earthquakes in the ground.  
But to them it is might as well be silent, unless they talk.  
Or breathe - Ashley can really hear her own breathing right now, can hear it rush in and then flood back out.  
It's cool and weird at the same time.

"Can you hear that?"  
"What?"  
"My breathing."

Spencer forces her arms to work, shoving her body upwards, and then she kind of topples to the side - but with purpose. The side of her head lands upon Ashley's chest and the brunette girl chuckles and Spencer listens closely.  
She hears Ashley's heart beating. And maybe it is the three or four... or six or seven... pulls she has taken off that pretty hand-blown piece, but Spencer has never heard anything so beautiful as the ba-bump of Ashley's heart.

"Aren't you hot?"

But Ashley's hands are shifting and sliding and one is pressed onto the grass and the other is toying with the tender hairs on the back of Spencer's neck.  
It's not cooling her off at all. In fact, it seems to be having the opposite effect and some part of Ashley is liking it.  
However, the rest of her is feeling too warm and breathing suddenly seems harder.

She taps Spencer's head and the girl mutters something in response.

"Hey."  
"Yes?"  
"Let's go swimming."  
"I hate swimming."  
"But I'm hot."

Spencer laughs then, even though it is not terribly funny, except in her head.

"Yes you are."

And Ashley is, that much Spencer will admit - sober or not so sober. Ashley, some girl at these parties, is attractive. Ashley has a nice voice. A good heart beat. Great eyes. Sexy fucking legs.  
Spencer feels a slow heat crawl past her abdomen and bank down at her center and it wouldn't take much for her to throw a leg over Ashley's hips and-

"I need to get cold or I'll combust."  
"But... I'm comfy** here**."

And Ashley grins, a wide grin at that, and her face feels on fire and there is this great tingling in her gut - it sort of spirals out into her chest, causing certain sections of her body to react.  
Ashley's not afraid, not right now, but something in her head keeps saying to 'move move move now now now'.

Up she goes and Spencer hits the ground with a thud and a growl and Ashley giggles and holds out her hand.

"No pool. But I bet there's a hose around here."

\

They end up doing what they set out to do.

Ashley skirts around the house, hands trailing over rock, and Spencer follows. They talk some. They 'shhh' each other some. They push and shove and it is just joking.  
And an excuse to touch more.  
It's most definitely that, too.

They end up doing more than they set out to do as well.

Ashley sticks her head under the cold water and shivers and yells out joyfully. And Spencer smiles so much that her damn cheeks hurt.  
But then Ashley turns on her and sprays her down and they are fighting for control over the hose and falling down and getting messed up.

Ashley's shirt gets torn. Spencer ends up taking off her jeans.  
Part of the yard is slick and Ashley busts her ass and the hose has too much pressure so it is flopping around and water is going everywhere.  
Like it is raining. Like they have created their own storm system.

And Spencer grabs the hose, drinks from it, then places it over Ashley's face.  
And Ashley laughs and coughs and covers her face.

"Oh no, no you don't... you **wanted** to be cold, right? C'mon... open up, open wide..."

Everything they say seems wrong and right at the same time.  
And Spencer drops down without any grace and she straddles Ashley's waist, a colorless deluge soaking Ashley's entire head.

"Okay... **okay**! I'm totally cooled off now, stop it!"

And Spencer stops and does some kind of victory dance where only one part of her moves, something that they both take note of in a delicately hazy manner.  
And Ashley beams up at Spencer and her legs instinctively part a little bit and those hands do what they like once again, finding purchase on Spencer's bare hips.

There are a lot of rules they are breaking.  
But there is only one that counts. They both know this, too.  
Only one rule can get shattered and not put back together again.

They end up throwing this rule against the wall, though.

Spencer lowers herself and Ashley strains upward, twin movements, and their lips meet.  
Their lips meet and once they kiss, they don't stop kissing.  
They take kissing and turn it into a lost art, an ancient thing. They get caught up in a new flavor that seems magical and mystical and rare and amazing.

It's not safe. It's not picture perfect.  
It's not tense. It's not make-believe.

And it would have taken off, it would grown feet and legs and ran wild, it would have churned and spun until nothing would have stopped them. In the daze of drugs and drink, they wanted it to continue.

Even without all that, they wanted it to continue.

But there is a crash and shouting and the noise finally penetrates the cocoon around the two of them, lips swollen and bodies flush and air ghosting over flesh and eyes watching with a mixture of lust and minor trepidation.

A fight spills out into the front of Jessica's yard and some over-dramatic girl is screaming. Glasses hit the floor and now more people are leaving the confines of the rooms, taking up space outside.

Spencer gets up on shaky legs and Ashley does the same.  
They look. They look away. They test. They fail. They try it again.

Kate is the one tonight, calling out Spencer's name. It carries all too well.  
But it is strange and funny, because Spencer feels guilty.  
Not in walking towards Kate and her steadfast expression, knowing that there wasn't much keeping Spencer from being a cheater just second ago.

It's guilt because she has finally found someone she doesn't want to walk away from - and, yet, that is exactly what Spencer does.

\ \ \

**tbc**


	3. october

**(three)**

Sometimes, only briefly, it bothers Jessica when people show up in costumes.

Just because it is October and there is a party does not automatically mean that it is a Halloween party. It is just coincidence. Just happenstance.

Besides, Halloween was just another day to Jessica Barnes. She didn't need a reason to dress up, didn't need a reason to act like a princess or a witch - she did that all the time.  
She walks down those school halls like a damn queen. She is always in costume, she just doesn't see it that way.

It's those posers who wear the mask. Not Jessica Barnes.

She is no emo kid, black hair and Fall Out Boy hoodies. She is no skater, holes in the jeans and beat up Chucks. She isn't a club kid. She isn't Valley High. She'll never be a book worm or a pot-head under the bleachers.

Jessica Barnes is Jessica Barnes. End of story.

And she'll just roll her eyes as another idiot comes into her house with glow-in-the-dark face paint on and a six pack of cheap beer, as some girl wanders in - trashed and slutty - dressed up like a nurse.

Jessica Barnes will let them in, she just won't like it much.

\

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't looking.  
Because she is - glancing towards the door, sweeping across the mass of faces - looking and looking and looking.  
And this might be it, you see, this might be the one time that Kate cannot climb back up from.

There is this tension between them now. Different than before, different than the usual.  
It isn't just Kate and dissatisfaction and sad things not being said, not this time.

Spencer can feel Kate's stare this time, can feel the frustration this time as it makes a home against Spencer's skin and stays there - indefinitely.

And this might be it, you see.  
This might be the only true hour of their time together, even more honest than the day they met and the date they had and the months they spent.  
All of that is just a figment. Kate knows it. Spencer knows it, too.

"...You want to get out of here?"

Kate's voice sounds so final, so raw, so tired as it coasts into Spencer's ear, over the music and over the shouting and over the sound of too many people.

And this is it, you see.  
This is it - as Spencer's eyes continue to gaze outward and search for a girl that she just cannot forget, cannot write off, cannot stop thinking about - this is a chance to be real, to be free, to be a good person.

"No. I'd like to stay."

And Spencer's voice is soft as she looks away from the crowd and at Kate, taking in this vision before her - of Kate's broken eyes, her nice mouth, the way her reddish hair is carelessly tossed to one side - Spencer takes one last look at Kate.

Kate sort of nods her head and clenches her jaw, stepping back and walking away and out the door.

And Spencer would be lying if she said she didn't feel better.

\

"I don't get you, Ash, you know? I really fucking don't."  
"What don't you get, Aiden? The fact that you **didn't** tell me where you'd be going after senior year and I **might** be pissed... Is that what you don't get?"  
"But we talked about this, like, months ago and **you said **'do what you like'!"

And she did say that. And she meant it.  
And, deep down, she knows that all this fight isn't about anger and it isn't about what she'll be losing when Aiden takes off for the east coast and basketball dreams.

It's all a ruse, elaborate and devious, even to her own conscious mind.  
It's all an excuse to finally do what she's been reluctant to do.

Jessica Barnes house looms before them as they sit in the car, engine off and stereo turned down. There are people on the stoop tonight, laughing and talking.  
The lights are all on tonight, too, every window like a beacon.  
Except near the top of the house, certain spires and turrets left in the dark, kept away from the prying hands of the bored and the wasted.

"Okay, fine. Then I can't do this anymore."  
"What the fuck does **that** mean?"  
"Jesus, Aiden, you'll be on the other side of the country and I'll be here-"  
"You **could** come with me."

And she could, if she loved him at all. If she really loved him the way a girlfriend should, Ashley could follow him and marry him and have his children.  
But Ashley doesn't love Aiden.  
She doesn't think she ever truly did. The didn't have passion, they had to create it with petty tiffs and ticked-off sex. They didn't have contentment, they had to pretend that the few good times were better than they seemed.

One day, he'll see it just like she has.

"No. I... I don't **want** to, Aiden, okay? Just go and live your life... and I'll live mine."  
"But Ash-"

She gets out of the car, walks away, nears the front door and pushes it open.  
And she's not sad, not heartbroken, not falling apart.  
She finally feels relief pour into her body, refreshing and lovely.

And Ashley is looking around, hoping to find a girl here that she just cannot forget, that she cannot write off, that she cannot stop thinking about.

Somewhere, in this party on the twenty-ninth of October, Ashley knows that that girl will be waiting, will be looking for her as well.

\

They don't talk this time.  
They don't have to, not really. Or maybe they **do** need to talk, talk and talk until they cannot breathe properly - but they choose not to.

They choose to cross the canyon of bodies, meeting in the middle of this dance-floor riot, and they don't say a single word.

Maybe everything is written in their eyes, in the way they get closer and closer, maybe their story is right there in Ashley's smile and in Spencer's hand slowly reaching out.

Spencer's hand, always acting before thinking, but she cannot worry about that.  
Her hand reaches out and molds to Ashley's side and pulls the girl in, until they are almost touching, until one deep inhalation of air would create a dangerous kind of contact.  
And Ashley starts swaying and her own hands glide down, glide down and around and lay flat against Spencer's back.  
Ashley's touch makes the decision for the both of them.

They are dancing and they are touching, hands to hips and hands to backs, chests grazing with each side to side motion.  
And Spencer closes her eyes and Ashley does the same and they turn into one another, leisurely enveloping the other as everyone else moshes and gyrates and discards all inhibitions.

But they are shucking inhibitions, too.  
Only quietly. Only with each other. In their own world.

This time, they are sober. This time, they are single. This time, they don't have to stop.

\

"You're really pretty."

Ashley laughs softly at that, not to be falsely modest, but because she likes what Spencer has said and it makes her somewhat shy. And her shyness always shifts into humor, in order to manage those pesky emotions.

"Thanks."  
"I should be thanking you."  
"Go ahead then."

Spencer smiles and inches forward on this floor they have found, in a room that looks like a study or an office, door stupidly not locked.  
They wandered away from the music and the dancing. They passed through the kitchen and found bottles of wine and decided not to drink at all.  
They found bathrooms and laundry rooms and closets. And they ended up here, in this study or office, on the floor with one lamp on - kind of in the dark, kind of in the light - facing each other.

Spencer inches forward and feels their lips connect.  
Once. Twice. More and more.  
Her fingers tangle into Ashley's hair and Ashley moans into Spencer's mouth.  
And clothing feels tight, feels oppressive on Ashley's arms and legs, she'd loved to peel the layers back and relish the touch of Spencer's kiss on her torso.  
On her thighs. Against her neck. All over, Ashley wants the blonde girl all over her.

They don't question sexuality or politics of the past.  
They don't waste time on such things.  
They are here and they are now and they want each other.

They've been wanting since May. They've been needing since July.

Spencer pulls back, just a bit, but keeps Ashley close.  
Not that Ashley is disappearing. Not that Ashley wants to leave.

"So, uh, thanks for being incredibly hot." Spencer hushes out and Ashley laughs again, louder this time. And they kiss again, brief but still heated.  
"My pleasure." Ashley replies and then she ducks her head and marks out a trail along Spencer's jawline, up to the ear and then to the cheek - tender flesh to tender flesh.  
And Spencer is breathing heavily now and she feels alive and she feels like volcanos are going off underneath her skin.

They make out and push boundaries for what seems like hours, until the door flies open and some guy falls on top of them - stoned and laughing - and then his friends barrel in afterwards and someone say something about 'let us watch', which makes Spencer's hands turn into fists.

Dragged unhappily from something sublime to something idiotic, they force their way - hand in hand - from a room full of guys in bedsheets, pretending to be ghosts.  
And the party seems to be winding down, people passed out and girls crying and sitting aloft on the stairwell is Jessica Barnes, some guy sucking on her neck and a bored expression on her face.

This time, though, Ashley and Spencer don't leave without making a promise or two.  
No one is calling their names. No one is waiting for them, by the door or in a car.

This time, Ashley gives her telephone number and Spencer gives hers and they kiss again and they say they will call each other, do more than make out at parties, do more than randomly meet and wish for it to not be so damn random.

This time, they do things right.

\

**tbc**


	4. december

**(four)**

Jessica Barnes only wish was for there to be lights, hundreds and hundreds of lights.

And so it was done.

Blue and white only - no red and green to make it seem like a Christmas event, winding around the banisters and the down the walls and in the two trees by the edge of the drive - points of illumination that tried to out-do the stars. 

And Jessica Barnes believes that they have, standing back and arms crossed as the cars roll in and there is a brief moment where each pair of eyes freezes.  
They all stand still and take it in, like some kind of magical wonderland, sugar plum fairies and such dancing in their heads.

And Jessica Barnes did it all.  
Well, with some help from that one issue of Martha Stewart Living as well.

Then everyone is in motion again, back to drinking and fucking and getting high.  
And the usual boys flirt with Jessica Barnes. And the usual girls try to befriend Jessica Barnes.

And Jessica Barnes grins happily to herself over another successful year.

\

They walk in together this time, on the eleventh of December, holding hands with ease.  
As if they have known each other for lifetimes upon lifetimes.

And maybe they have.

Ashley doesn't believe in God, but maybe reincarnation does occur.  
Spencer doesn't know what happens when you die, but maybe the soul does go on.

Maybe they were always meant to meet and fall in love.

Because that is what has happened, quick as lightning, the two of them going from undeniable attraction to simple emotion.  
Simply put, they like each other. Simply put, they are falling for each other.

Like blinking. Like breathing.

"You want something to drink?" Ashley whispers into Spencer's ear and feels the blonde girl shiver at that barely-there contact and it creates a now familiar swirl of heat in her own stomach.  
Ashley has named it 'want'. Constant want. Constant desire.

She'd call it constant craving, but then Ashley ends up with that song stuck in her head for days.

"Sure."  
"What do you want?"

Spencer's mind is so raw with sexual tension, all the time and every time she is around Ashley. Once she sees the brunette, she must touch her. Once she touches Ashley, she must kiss her. And once they kiss, Spencer slips into another damn world, perilously close to perfection.

And they've not even had sex yet. But it is building up. It is drawing nearer.  
The beast is almost loose.  
And Spencer has never felt like this before.  
It is heady and it is wild and it is crazy. But she wouldn't trade this feeling for anything - not a million dollars, not to live forever.

So she leans in closer and brushes her lips against Ashley's, feeling the shock of aroused air between them with each chaste kiss bestowed.

"**You**."

Ashley cannot stop it from taking place, so she doesn't try to.  
She moans aloud. And no one else can hear it, all of them caught up in the pandemonium of this party, another party at Jessica Barnes castle of a house.  
But Spencer hears it.

And drinking doesn't sound like fun at all now.

\

It should have been locked, just like all the others.

But they didn't want to go to that study or office again, too close to the madness.  
And this is where they met, where they found one another - months ago, one girl leaving and one girl going back in - so they feel it only right to complete this process of infatuation and lust and acceptance and happiness here, at Jessica Barnes party.

That and they cannot wait any longer. Maybe that's a shade more the truth than anything else.

But they found rooms with people getting sick and they found rooms with people making out. They found rooms sealed up tight like a drum. They found an ornate bedroom, with ugly wallpaper and lots of gold and peacock feathers all around.

Ashley said she'd have to be tripping on acid to enjoy sex in a room like that.  
Spencer laughed and grabbed the girl by the wrist and they moved on.

They moved up the stairwell, down halls, until one door wasn't locked up.  
And they open it, the hinges creaking just a bit, revealing a moon-lit section of wooden steps.

"Do we dare?" Spencer's voice coasts out and Ashley feels it, actually **feels** the girl's voice in every part of her body.  
Warm and lovely and all she has ever longed for, right there, right beside her.  
Ashley turns her head to face Spencer and grins.

"We do."

\

There is a naked boy running around the foyer, making some people laugh and making others shriek in an odd mixture of mirth and disgust.  
He has a strand of lights hanging around his pale form, off his arms and dropping close to the parts of him no one truly wants to see.

Someone spilled the bowl of punch, which was spiked with a lot of alcohol, red rivers of liquid going into the grooves of the marble floor of the kitchen.  
And it'll be hell to clean up for those poor Mexican maids that Jessica Barnes father hired.

Jessica is sitting on a couch, surrounded by music and a couple of 'friends', smoking a cigarette and half-listening to some girl talk about a cheerleading camp.  
Or a Jesus camp.  
Or something else all together, Jessica Barnes doesn't really care.

Jessica is drunk and amused by eveything while being simultaneously blasé about everything.

But that's the norm for a girl like Jessica Barnes, during the last significant party of the year, blinking lights and debauchery... Never knowing about that fairy tale spinning out in waves, far up above, in the attic that used to be her tower in the sky.

\

It's a little dusty and a little stuffy, but Spencer finds a window and unlatches it and pushes it open. And the air that floods in is cool but not cold, washing over her face and fluttering in her hair.

Ashley looks for a light switch, but does not find one. Nor a lamp. Not even a flashlight.  
It does not seem to matter much, though.  
Because over head there is pane after pane of glass, a view of the clouds shifting over a nighttime expanse, and every time it clears there is light.

The moon up there, mostly full, beaming down and creating this otherworldly glow of blue.  
And there is a vanity table, with a hair-brush and haphazardly tossed down dolls upon it.  
And a rocking horse sitting silent and various canopies hooked in the corners, holding toys.

Ashley reaches out and runs her fingertips over a pair of delicate wings pinned to the wall, with fuzzy material around the edges, a little girl's idea of magic - all over this room they have found, a quiet bit of magic and wonder while that party goes on downstairs.

It's like a whole other world.  
And they are the only ones aware of it.

Spencer takes a deep breath and then turns around, the small confines of this space making her walk sort of bent over, so she drops to her knees and crawls instead.  
It makes her giggle, which makes Ashley look over and Spencer catches that sweet smile as it blossoms on the brunette's face.

"What are you doing?"  
"I'm too tall for this room."

And Ashley wants to wait patiently, knowing that each scuff of Spencer's jeans along the wood and carpet is bringing them closer.  
But waiting is one thing she cannot do.  
Ashley lowers herself to the floor, moving forward with speed to capture Spencer's lips with her own, loving the pleased gasp she gets in return.

They kiss, endless kisses, wrapped up in the taste and the texture of one another.

Spencer is trembling, actually shaking and feeling light-headed.  
It could be the lack of air from kissing so much. It could be the room, obviously shut up for too long.  
But she knows it is not really those things.  
Well, maybe the kissing does play a part, but not because it steals oxygen from her lungs.  
No, it's Ashley.  
All Ashley.

It's cheesy as fuck, but Ashley takes her breath away.

And the kissing gets more aggressive, bodies getting closer, hands roaming, tongues slipping out to seek more. More sensation. More fire. More Spencer. More Ashley.

More... and Ashley is no longer even marginally upright, enveloped by Spencer, legs holding her and arms secure and fingers dancing along her neck.  
More... and Spencer is reacting on pure instinct, pure need, making a not so subtle push with her hips and feeling Ashley respond in kind and teeth suddenly scrape along her exposed shoulder.  
More... and Ashley feels palms go up and under her shirt and tremors rattle through her as Spencer follows the spine and slides along her sides and further down, teasing at what rests beneath that skirt.  
More... and Spencer digs her nails in, finally, into Ashley's flesh and nearly comes undone when Ashley grinds down hard upon her, lips attached and breath labored.

And Ashley raises up, pulls her shirt off, bathed in moonlight.  
And Spencer stares, for a moment, as if transfixed.  
Which she is. Ashley is, too.  
Transfixed by the fanned out blonde hair against the ground, like some kind of halo.

"You're beautiful... did you know that?" Ashley whispers, fingers moving slowly as they unbutton Spencer's top, one soft snap at a time.

Spencer didn't know. Not because she has low self-esteem or anything. It's just not something she's thought about, even if someone said it to her.  
It didn't matter. What do looks matter, that's what she normally thinks.

But Ashley said she is beautiful. And that makes Spencer feel like the most gorgeous human being on the face of the Earth.  
Well, next to Ashley that is.  
And she wants to speak, wants to say that Ashley is the most lovely person to ever exist, wants to shout about this love until she loses her voice.

Words, though, are gone.  
For they are touching - really touching - exploring the contours and the dips and the hollows.  
They are touching - really touching - bare skin caressing as they run over each other like water, fluid and seamlessly.  
They are saying everything to each other - really sharing, really speaking, really talking, really saying every single thing they can to each other.

In that tower in the sky, just the moon watching, as they fall a little deeper.

And then a little deeper still.

And deeper still.

\

**end**


End file.
